


retrouvailles

by marilags



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Fluff and Angst, One Shot, Painter!Reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2020-10-20
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:00:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27117148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marilags/pseuds/marilags
Summary: Retrouvailles (French) Translated into English, this word means “rediscovery.” It refers to the joy that you feel upon being reunited with a loved one after a long separation.
Relationships: Hong Jisoo | Joshua/Reader
Kudos: 1





	retrouvailles

**JOSHUA PLACES HIS HAND ON** the cool wall, slowly making a fist. It wasn’t a fist so that he could hurt someone or something. It wasn’t a fist because he was angry. It is a fist because Joshua is hurt. He wanted his own fingernails to dig inside his skin until blood would come dripping over.

It hurt. He felt like he should laugh or something. It hurt that it felt funny to him.

“So… this is really how it ends, huh?” Joshua lowers his head more, studying the soles of his black leather shoes. He wanted to turn his head and look at you. He badly wanted to. But, he knew the consequences of it; _he’d be hurt even more_.

You are a figure at the edge of the bed, hands folded together and head bowing down as you fiddled with your hands and bit your lower lip. You bit your lip so strong that you could taste the metallic taste of blood. You lick your lip and return to biting it. It’s not an act of seducing someone, though. It’s an act of sadness, holding back, and fear of regret.

You sigh and let your lower lip free from your canines.

“Yeah… sorry about this. It’s just that I feel like everything is a rush. I mean, last month we barely knew each other and now we’re saying ‘I love yous’ and all those lovey-dovey nonsense,” you sigh. You don’t know how to put your feelings into words. You are bad at it. “I mean—I mean that I love that we did those stuff and loved each other…I knew that your love was genuine and all but…” This time you and Joshua were looking at each other, eyes of defeat mirroring each other.

“…but it feels confusing.” The two of you whisper.

Joshua sighs and pushes himself off the wall, standing straight and tall before you. His messy straight brown hair is somewhat pushed back by his sweat and his hands were now tucked in his pockets.

“Goodbye, then, Y/N.”

A heartbeat passes. _One. Two. Three._

“Goodbye, too, Joshua.”

And the door closes with a click.

• • •

**BEING AN ARTIST IS** something really difficult. When you say that you paint and draw for a living, people will immediately envision you as someone who is having it harsh in life. That is true. Being an artist requires a big fat amount of perseverance in you. It meant waiting. Art is subjective. People will always have a different opinion on a piece. Some will understand it, some will feel it, some will be angered, some will be disgusted, and some will wonder at it.

But, one psychologist has said that people are the same. They will, at one point, coincide with something. That is where luck comes. People love your work, your art pieces.

You stare at your reflection, studying your eyes, nose, and lips. But you look into your eyes more, drowning in the color of your irises. You remember a certain someone, the ache of wanting to paint him hitting you in the gut.

_Joshua…_

“Miss?” a young lady says in French, accent heavy. “They are all waiting.”

You stand up and brace yourself for the blinding lights and the smiles. A red line of smile stretches across your face, “Thank you, I’m ready now.”

The door opens.

Two years ago, you were a struggling artist until you decided to focus more on your self and on your dreams. It was a way to move on. Until one day, someone passes by and retraces their step to give your display piece a look. They gave you a card, you went to them, there was talking blah blah blah, signing, documenting, then finally assigning.

And, that is how you got here in Paris, France.

But, before all of that, you met Joshua Hong. Aspiring singer, gentleman, talented, flexible, smart…but most of all, a smile that captivated you. That smile was the main reason why you and him talked in the first place. You wryly smile to yourself as you continue socializing with many elites.

It was one beautiful evening.

**• • •**

_**SEOUL IS A BEAUTIFUL CITY** , you say to yourself as you walk across the streets looking for something…something to captivate you and have your artistic mind working again. Seoul is a beautiful city—but where can you find the most beautiful out of the beautiful?_

_A crowd gathers around someone and you walk towards them, also curious about what it is. You hear the delicate strums of the guitar strings and you smile, liking the melody. You push yourself against the crowd when you hear the voice. Then, when you went to the front and saw that smile, his smile. You felt your heart skip, releasing the butterflies in your stomach._

_“What is his name?” You ask a nearby viewer, hoping that he knew._

_The man smiled, “Ah, that’s Joshua, Joshua Hong. He is a trainee in Pledis.”_

_At that moment, you also knew one last thing. You wanted to paint him but you wanted to know him more._

_It hurt your heart so much to let him go. It still does._

**• • •**

**“MIND IF I DANCED WITH YOU?”**

A voice breaks your reminiscing and you realize that the orchestra has started playing and everybody was pairing up with others. You look up to the person who had asked you to dance.

Tall, luscious light brown locks, eyebrows perfectly arched, big lighted eyes, and a smile, _a captivating smile._

Joshua Hong.

You smile.

He smiles back.

A smile that would water the emptiness inside you, barren wells in the midst of beige deserts.

**• • •**

_The rain pitter patters down the concrete but you don’t mind. You stand in front of the man you love the most, the man you felt so passionate about. You let the tears blend in with the raindrops and no one will ever know which is which._

_“Y/N?!” Joshua says in surprise. “You’re drenched! You could catch a cold!”_

_Joshua grabs your hand and gives you his umbrella, you tilt it in a way that both of you were being sheltered from the rain. He takes off his coat and puts it around you, making you feel warm. You feel your heart ache again. He was always like this._

_“Y/N…?”_

_You smile and look at him, “I really miss you, Joshua. I really miss you that it hurts and it feels stupid. I broke it off but here I am.”_

_Joshua smiles, too. A really bitter smile. You wonder if the crystal spots in his face were teardrops or raindrops._

_“I miss you, too, Y/N.”_

_“C-can we go back together? Reset?” you say, looking at him with swollen eyes._

_Joshua only smiles. “No.”_

_“No?” You are shocked, you had thought he would agree._

_“We broke up in the first place because there’s something we couldn’t grasp. Something we missed due to rushing. And Y/N,” Joshua looks at you intently. “I want us to move on, continue our separate ways and reach our dreams. I want us to do those first, Y/N. Them, let’s let fate decide what is really for us. I feel like we need to fall apart to be able to reunite. If we go back together again, then I feel like nothing would have changed our relationship. We have forgotten ourselves and our dreams in that relationship, Y/N, that we have reached the point where we hurt each other.”_

_You look down, understanding what he meant. Everything was too fast, better not make the same mistake._

_**“If we meet again, let’s start from the beginning. A real reset.”** _

**• • •**

**“JUST A DANCE?”** you smile at him. “Of course, it would be a pleasure to.”

Both of you clasped your hands together and you wait for the familiar touch of Joshua. It is the familiar touch but there was more. It’s as if he had grown and had new attributes. Joshua’s other hand is carefully placed on your waist and the both of you waltz together.

“I’m Y/L/N Y/N, the artist of the paintings around us,” you say, beaming at the fact that your paintings are being exhibited in a social gathering.

“Your paintings are very beautiful, Miss Y/N. I’m Joshua Hong, one of the members of Seventeen,” he says.

“An idol group here?” you say. “How?”

“Apparently, the daughter of the gallery owner is a big fan of us,” he chuckles looking over at a short, sharp-eyed male with, indeed, the host’s daughter. “And we’ve got a concert here. Ever heard of our group?”

You blush with embarrassment, “Sorry, no.”

Joshua smiles–which makes you wish for your paintbrush and pencil–and shakes his head, “Then, do you want to go? I will reserve a seat for you. For free.”

You grin, “I’ll go if you go to my exhibition on Saturday.”

“Deal.”

**• • •**

**THERE IS A FRENCH WORD** you had recently encountered. _Retrouvailles._ It meant “rediscovery” or the when you meet a loved one after so long. And, that is how you felt. Leaning back on the wall, you study the canvas in front of you. There is a couple painted on it and they were painted mid-laugh, in the middle of the ballroom, while dancing.

“Hm?” you feel someone place a kiss on the crown of your head as he places a coffee beside you. “What’s that?”

 **“Retrouvailles.”** You turn to smile at Joshua Hong, returning the kiss on the lips.


End file.
